


Through The Nights

by generallou



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: A Little Bloody, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chanyeol is his childe, Character Turned Into Vampire, Childe/Sire Bond(s), Jongdae is a sire, Mild Gore, Multi, and they're both dumb, it only gets serious in the middle and the end, semi-twilight fic on crack, the vampires are very ahead of time, they're both passive aggressive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generallou/pseuds/generallou
Summary: A couple of years into eternity, Chanyeol's sire disappears and vanishes without a trace, and time isn't helping to soothe his desperation.It's only until a little over two centuries later that Chanyeol's persistent searching finally bears fruit. Except, Kim Jongdae is very human now, and consequently, lacking whatever form of eternity of sorts to spare for anyone, including his one and only childe.





	Through The Nights

**Author's Note:**

> this story is also posted on AFF under godspeed1; except updates there are shorter but faster. one chapter here is equivalent to two or three chapters on AFF.

Chanyeol wonders where all the contentment he had experienced as a child wandered off to, to where all the excitement, general joy for life, and the desire to _live_ , and experience had ran. When had it all spiralled? When had everything started being so numb? He breathes through gritted teeth, arms over his chest as he curls into himself further; the cold is chilling, harsh, and deathly as minutes trickled past fast, the day giving in to the darker hours.

 

Blindfolded, Chanyeol can't see beyond the indistinct vague blurs of fading sunlight from behind the cloth, and can't move beyond the occasional wriggles of his restrained wrists and ankles. He lets out an exhausted sigh, shaky in its’ wake, feeling the harshness of the frozen soil against his cheek.

 

_He’s going to die soon._

 

_Finally?_

 

Eventually, even the numbing will fade into nothing-ness. As his whole frame remains wracked in non-stop shivering, Chanyeol asks himself, if the nothing-ness after death feels anything like the numbness in his head, and the memories missing from his heart.

 

“What on Earth…”

 

He hears steps shuffling closer, sound rough against the hard, solid gravel. _He’s close_ , Chanyeol senses, whoever it is, but where he expects warmth, he finds nothing besides the unchanging cold air in place. _Odd_. Had he imagined the voice?

 

“What happened to you…” The voice trails off before Chanyeol feels the cloth wrapped around his head loosen, “Were you robbed?”

 

_So, he’s real?_

 

For the first few seconds, what greets him is nothing but a blur silhouette; pale skin, raven dark hair -- Chanyeol parts his lips in an attempt to speak, but it comes out far too airy and breathy to be any remotely comprehensible, tiers quivering too strongly from the cold.

 

There’s a hand to his cheek, and Chanyeol jumps when it's too cold. It’s foreign, to be touched but to not feel the warmth that comes with, where what comes instead is a strange iciness that Chanyeol’s never felt in anyone's touch before this. His limbs are still tied, and Chanyeol instinctively wriggles away from the stranger with some form of new-found strength at this revelation, adrenaline surging as he registers that this man may be a threat. He’s unknown, and hence, a threat. An unknown threat. 

 

Screw  _human_ threats, or  _animal_ threats. Chanyeol has always thought of an unknown threat to be far more of a thing to be fearful of.

 

He hisses when the man reaches out to him, fear swelling from the pits of his stomach.

 

“I -- You don't have to be scared! I’m not going to… Is it my hands? You felt how cold they were? I mean, not that I actually know how cold they are...”

 

Chanyeol’s not much capable of anything beyond small, protesting grunts.

 

“Hey, I won't… I won't hurt you. It's okay…”

 

_No, no, no, don't trust. Don't trust. Don't trust._

 

There are fingers to the side of his neck, the cold touch lingering, and Chanyeol feels them even as he closes his eyes shut. He tries to not let the ache all over his body bother him too much, not when there are more important matters at hand.

 

“Your pulse is too weak,” the man says, before proceeding to mutter more unintelligible noises under his breath. “No, no…”

 

Is he hearing right? Is the stranger _panicking_? Over _his_ weak pulse?

 

“Hey, no, no, don't die on me… God, help me -- Don't let this man die on me,” he whispers -- _prays_ , desperate and pleading; and Chanyeol hears it all, before he feels the tips of the same cold digits against his cheekbones, whole palms slowly sliding into place in their steads. He lets his eyes flutter open, even if only briefly, and the man’s face, he realizes, is suddenly closer to his by mere inches.

 

Pale, _pale_ , skin. High cheekbones, concern contorted all over his features; eyes, dark and wide, glazed with _so_ much worry that it almost warms Chanyeol’s heart -- _Almost_.

 

The sudden, sharp sting at the supple, fleshy junction between his neck and shoulder prevents him from thinking any further, and it's a new form of numbness that's all but foreign to Chanyeol; the kind of numbness that forces him to welcome it anyways, where he can't even bring himself to wonder why he's not fighting back, why he isn't trying. It's so strange that it fucking scares him, but Chanyeol can't do anything but remain helpless as he waits for himself to be lead by the numbness to a place elsewhere from his mind, wherever it'll take him.    

 

“It’ll be okay soon… I’m so sorry, I don't know what else to do,” it's odd how muffled the voice now sounds as he speaks, wet slurping sounds so close to his ear.

 

_This guy… doesn't breathe at all, does he?_

 

_What's he._

 

_Huh?_

 

It's the last thing that he registers, and he asks himself, whether thinking had always been this hard?

  
  
 

.

 

 

Chanyeol wakes up, throat parched, sluggish, and thirsty as hell. _Oh_. He’s _waking_ up. When he hadn't quite been expecting to wake up. Thoughts swim in his head, but none of which he could understand; Nothing’s ever felt so abstract, and all Chanyeol sees are the circles in his head, nothing but circles and circles of thoughts leading to nowhere unless grasped. From the distance, there's the sound of ceramic clattering against each other, the howling wind as it blows in to his current space through the holes in the wall. He thinks he hears something being chopped up as well; a hard board thumping over the wooden floor as a chopping knife probably nearly cuts through it. It sounds clumsy, irregular, and a frustrated whine resounds amongst the noises.

 

“Crap, huh,” a voice hisses, melodic and smooth-sounding, “It’s all _bloody_ … Gross.”

 

_He sounds familiar._

 

A groan unintentionally slips out, and Chanyeol instinctively throws the back of his palm to his lips. The stranger hears it anyway, and Chanyeol tries to not feel too scared for his life, “Oh! You’re awake?”

 

He hears someone shuffle close to wherever he’s being laid, remain as still as possible while the steps approach his side. The stranger bubbles out with an easy laughter, though small and shy, “You can't really… You don't have to hide or be scared. I can hear you breathing anyways. Which, you don't really have to do anymore at this point.”

 

_Oh Lord, what?_

 

His hand slides off of his face to lay against his side, eyes slowly opening -- though partially against his will, when Chanyeol realizes the heartbeat that should’ve been there is absent, or rather, slowly coming into a halt as he’s rousing further into his state of awareness. There's a man by his side, knees folded under him and hands curled into fists over his lap. Soft bangs falling right over his eyebrows, and a gentle smile that only widens in relief when their eyes meet.

 

Chanyeol blinks away his surprise; Hues of orange painting the brown wooden wall from the lantern resting on top of a table, and it’s almost comforting, except there are blood, red splatters tainting what could have been warm and assuring. He narrows his eyes on the stains over the man’s clothes, and the stranger, having noticed his gaze, only sheepishly smiles.

 

“I was trying to, prepare a meal for you! But it got messy, and the blood splashed everywhere… And then, I realized that the blood is contaminated… And not safe for consumption.”

 

Unconsciously, Chanyeol’s focus zeroes on a particularly smooth patch of pale skin over his neck, his own lips parting in some sort of unfamiliar want at the sight; noting that there's something peculiarly delectable about the softness, and just how out in the open it is. He only realizes then that he’s yet to say a word, but his voice comes out unusually hoarse, and more akin to a low growl when he finally asks; “Who the fuck are you?”

 

The man seems to shudder at the sound of his voice, or maybe Chanyeol’s just imagining it; It’s hard to tell when there’s a foggy haze slowly beginning to cloud his mind and judgement blank; “Oh, uh! I’m Jongdae… You can call me Daedae, or Jongdae, and ah -- your voice, has it always been _that_ deep?”

 

Chanyeol sits himself up, feels the softness of a thin mattress underneath his palms, and a sense of giddiness as he straightens his back upright. “What did you do to me?” The tip of his canines are exceptionally sharp, grazing against his lower lip.

 

Jongdae’s eyebrows raise above the edges of his bangs as he lifts a hand to rub his nape, lips pursed into a thin line, “It’s, I’m so… I’m so sorry, I didn't know what I wanted to do! You were going to die, and I was there, and I couldn't just let you die there, so I --”

 

“What _the fuck_ did you do?”

 

“I’m going to tell you! Just, don't get mad, alright?”

 

He lets out a quiet grunt, that he doesn't quite know the meaning of either. Though in these circumstances, it can only mean so much, and Chanyeol believes it’ll come to explain itself later. Not now, when the fog in his head has only barely subsided. He gestures for him to continue.

 

Jongdae prepares himself, already taking a mock deep breath before his lips part halfway; “Take a deep breath first, you're probably not going to be ready for this-- _Ack_ , right. You don't to breathe anymore.”

 

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

 

“We were hours away from any village, or town when I found you,” Jongdae explains, hands illustrious and moving accordingly to the tone of his words, “And it was originally my plan to take you to the closest house on my way home, but then I realized you’d be dead by then,” he shrugs, this guy really somehow has the nerve to fucking shrug, “So… I turned you into a, a -- _Okay_ , I’m about to drop a _big_ bomb on you.”

 

Jongdae grins, awkward and nervous,“So, I _turned_ you into a _vampire_. _Bit_ you,” he taps his fingers against the side of his neck, “and sucked your life force dry, so now… you are a being biologically frozen in time! And, you're _not_ dead!”

 

“I didn't die?”

 

Jongdae blinks, before he lights up in ascertainment; “Good question! You did, but not, like -- _died_ , died.”

 

_Dead. But not, like. **Dead** , dead._

  
He lets on a toothy grin, for supposed reassurance, Chanyeol imagines, though he doesn't miss the way he mutters a relieved _'Thank God’_ under his breath (and he certainly doesn't miss how oh, so fucking pointy his fangs are in particular.) Something tells him that Jongdae isn't that much smarter about this whole thing than Chanyeol is, and Chanyeol, as far as he’s aware, knows _nothing_.

 

_Life force? Bit? Vampire? Biologically frozen in time?_

 

“What?” His eyebrows furrow, expression scrunched into irritation. His head hurts.

 

“You were, dying, and I bit you, so you’d turn into a vampire! Being a vampire makes you immune to the cold and all, you know? I think immune is indeed -- the right word, I don't know, that's what my sire told me before…”

 

“A _vampire_ ,” Chanyeol reiterates, less disbelieving and more dumbfounded, pained confusion etched all over his features.

 

“Oh, you don't know what it is? Maybe you guys have a different term for it here… You know, monsters, but not actually monsters! _Bloodsuckers_ , but we’re not _suckers_ , though we do _suck_ blood,” at this point, Jongdae’s trying too hard to make things lighter than it is. "There's a difference," he tries to say, though Chanyeol barely feels any remorse for lacking the ability to be appreciative over the man's efforts. 

 

He can't feel a single heartbeat, but there’s a sense of urgency, a kind of restlessness that, in normal circumstances, would have his heart racing; no longer needs to breathe, but the temptation to choke himself to death right there and then is shining so brightly, like never before, and it’s looking especially _cute_ too. Chanyeol asks himself if being a _bloodsucker_ is supposed to explain that. His eyebrows remains creased, and Chanyeol retreats into a curled up position, knees folded to his chest, unsure of what he’s supposed to feel now that he’s a… _being biologically frozen in time?_

 

Jongdae sends him a pitying look, even if only for a very brief moment, before lifting himself off of the ground to stand upright. His long sleeves unroll themselves from the continuous movements, and Chanyeol observes (with an odd disappointment pitting in his chest) as the hem of the ragged fabric falls to cover his whole arm and halfway through his palms. There’s a cool glow surrounding Jongdae, even if his smile is nothing but warmth embodied.

 

“You must be thirsty, I assume?” Jongdae asks.

 

Chanyeol lifts his head to the latter, parting his lips open to reveal his teeth, gritting in place; “My teeth itches,” and there's a hesitant pause before he nods, adding, “And thirsty.” And another beat, “And hungry.”

 

“I might have to go out for a little hunt again,” Jongdae titters, and Chanyeol follows his gaze as Jongdae glances behind him, only to wince at the sight; where a mutilated carcass is laid still over the board, its’ tiny limbs nailed to the surface as wet blood drips from its’ neck and over the blunt edges. There’s a sigh from his side, but Chanyeol suddenly finds himself uncaring of anything else that doesn't smell like the tasty, irony tang radiating deliciously from the bloodied, severed neck, and look as dark as the red of the drops of liquid leaking from the sloppily-made cuts.

 

A head pops up in his view, positively discontented; “Hey, buddy? You can't have the dead bunny, that thing has icky, ugly worms in its’ blood, and I don't know how to filter them out.”

 

“It appears fine to me,” Chanyeol grunts; besides the hunger, Chanyeol feels some sort of impending doom at the thought of Jongdae leaving his side.

 

“No, bad boy! You can't have those, okay? We’re sophisticated vampires with class, we’re not primitive; and we’re also hygienic.”

 

Ironically, Chanyeol feels nothing like the _sophisticated vampires with class_ Jongdae claims them to be, and he’s an _asshole_ for denying him from something so mouthwatering . He scrunches his nose in distaste, protesting pushes to the latter’s chest; “I’ll have it for consumption.”

 

“You can't!”

 

“I don't care,” he grumbles, already getting on his knees, fists curled up against the floor, “What do you know?”

 

Jongdae whines indignantly, “I’m literally _your sire_. Like, five years your senior vampire!”

 

“Doesn't matter,” Chanyeol mutters, crawling towards the carcass;  _because what the fuck is a sire supposed to mean anyways?_

 

There’s a harsh pull from behind his collar, and fuck, if Jongdae isn't unexpectedly strong for a tiny brat. “Bad childe -- Look, I can't risk you turning into a _patient zero_ , at this slow period when medicine is _shit_ and _can't track patient zeroes_! What if you throw this continent into a plague-ridden era? What if humanity ceases to exist!”

 

“Let me go, or I’ll bite your neck instead.”

  
Jongdae’s gasp is melodramatic, “Bad childe, you're supposed to understand!”

 

“Hey -- uh, childe? What are you--”

 

“Wait, you little shit -- NO, no, don't come close--!!”

 

 

 .

 

 

Jongdae lays still, motionless, and _lifeless_ , cheek pressed against the floor to Chanyeol’s right. His eyes are closed shut, all serene and soft, long lashes fluttering over his skin, and Chanyeol feels guilt poking at his heart, sees stinging pain with every look he takes at his now unconscious sire. Jongdae’s neck is painted with blood, a line of red leaking from two tiny wounds adjacent to each other and punctured onto his skin by none other than Chanyeol, the bad, _bad_ childe, who shamefacedly wipes off the blood at the corner of his lips with his sleeve.

 

He shakes the man, muttering small pleas for the other to wake up please while anxiety grows ever more from the bottom of his stomach when Jongdae has yet to show any signs of _life_. _Fuck the irony._

 

“Jongdae, Jongdae?” Chanyeol whimpers, “Please wake up, I’m so sorry.” The corners of his eyes begin to water, beads of tears already beginning to stain his cheeks; All while a sense of dread punches deep into his core as he further shakes the smaller when Jongdae just jolts out of nowhere, drawling out a low groan as he stirs in his position.

 

“ _Motherfuckeeeer_ ….”

 

Delight erupts in his chest, lips curling into a relieved smile. “Jongdae,” he calls out, voice shaky, laced with so, so much fear that he might lose him. “I’m so sorry -- I couldn't, I just saw _red_ , I was so hungry, so I --”

 

The smaller, still sprawled over the ground, lifts a hand up, facing his palm out to him. “Sa-save it, I was at fault too,” he murmurs weakly, and the corners of his lips twitch into a reluctant smile, “you’re not hungry anymore, are you?”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head, shoulders still trembling lightly from the scare; “I had a good meal.”

 

“Of course, you did.” A low rumble resounds from Jongdae, “For a turned baby vampire, you’re awfully accepting of the fact that you’ve just drank blood like it was nothing.”

 

The childe licks at his lower lip, tastes the distinctive tang of blood over his tier. “It hadn't come to mind when I drank from you. But now that you say it,” he thins his lips in consideration, “It is kind of disturbing. Is your blood safe for consumption?”

 

Jongdae scoffs, before a quiet laughter rises out of him, “Of course… Uhm, chil- what's your name--?”

 

“Chanyeol,” he chews on his lower lip worryingly at the sight of the still weak state of his sire, “Park Chanyeol.” Jongdae doesn't seem to have any plans of getting up anytime soon as it seems, even if his current position looks utmost uncomfortable. His eyes are open, but still rather lidded and Chanyeol hadn't paid enough attention to the colour of his lips before this to know whether or not they’ve always been so… _bluish_.

 

“Hehee,” Jongdae giggles, “Did you cry while I was unconscious, Chanyeol?”

 

The tall man blinks, nose scrunching in shame, before aggressively wiping at the tear tracks with his sleeves, “N- _No_!! Why would I--”

 

Jongdae lets out an airy laughter, cheekiness evidently dripping along with the fact of how weak it still sounds. “It's fine, don't be embarrassed about it,” he reassures, “It's normal… for childes to get really, _really_ attached to their sires at this stage. Ah, I’m so sorry, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows warily, “What are you sorry for?”

 

“I’m sure I’m the last person you’d want to be getting attached to right now, in any case,” he huffs, “The vampire poison is just clouding your mind now.”

 

Jongdae’s right, so, very likely right. Chanyeol tries hard to think through the overwhelming worry and concern that he has for the presently weakened state of his sire now, tries to justify why it doesn't feel wrong to have this bond with someone who’d just turned him into, a _being frozen in time_ , against his will. Even if he _had_  meant good intentions, Chanyeol remembers vaguely of his own acceptance to his approaching death, and the resistance he managed to conjure out of fear when Jongdae had appeared out of nowhere. Yet, being with Jongdae oddly feels so, _so_ right and perfect; that Chanyeol only realizes now that he’s yet to even think of escaping.

 

Is that the _vampire_ poison? Chanyeol gasps to himself, doesn't care that it’s audible or the way Jongdae lifts an eyebrow up at the sound. _The bloodsucker poison?_

 

“You don't have to think about it too hard, you know?” Jongdae chuckles, finally raising his head off of the floor, “I’ll explain it to you.”

 

“You will?” He perks up from his thoughts.

 

“Of course! Like I said, I’m a sophisticated vampire with _class_ , hence, I'm not an _ass_ ,” he snorts, only to end up faceplanted against the floor once more. A small, pained groan resounds, “A splinter cut at my cheek.”

 

Chanyeol winces; he disliked splinters then, and now, with reason, he comes to _abhor_ them.

 

“Before I explain,” Jongdae says, his voice more slurred than ever, “Can you, you see the pigeon in the cage, over the counter against the window?” _Huh. Jongdae kept pets? Or was he going to ask him to..._ “No, silly. I’ll never eat Hunnie, he’s my best friend. Put one of those red leaves from the jar in his beak, and let him fly out.”

 

“You’re going to let him go?” Chanyeol asks, though he’s already walked away, now fiddling with the cage's lock, a tiny red leaf in hand. He avoids meeting the bird’s eyes, something about the black beadiness of Hunnie's eyes seemingly wanting to pierce through his soul.

 

“Hunnie will come back,” Jongdae says, “with someone I can have a meal from.”

 

The leaf scrunches in between Chanyeol’s fingers; _Someone Jongdae can have a meal from._ Somehow, that doesn't settle well with Chanyeol.

  
  
 


End file.
